A Kiss With Scandal (Scandals & Secrets 4) Read online

  His eyes twinkled. “Yes, I do.”

  A servant handed them a rolled up piece of parchment. “Shall we go?” he asked. “I find it’s better to strategize where others won’t overhear.”

  Charlotte agreed before he led her through the house to a rose garden just beyond the west terrace.

  “Do you know what’s on the list?”

  He chuckled. “That would make things easier for us. However, no, I do not know. I had someone else make it so I wouldn’t have an advantage. That wouldn’t be sporting.”

  “And are you always sporting?” she teased. She couldn’t help it. After everything that had happened to her, this was the first moment they weren’t focused on finding two killers. They were outside in a beautiful garden, the sun kissed their cheeks, and a soft breeze tickled hairs against her skin. The estate was beautiful, peaceful, and danger felt a hundred miles away.

  “I can’t say that I am,” he admitted with a grin.

  He unrolled the paper, and she leaned toward him, catching his woodsy scent as she scanned the paper. She wanted to close her eyes, inhale that potent smell until it was infused in her brain. No doubt he would think her daft, but she didn’t care. Almost.

  Heavens, how could a man smell so good? Most of the men of her acquaintance were sweaty or drenched in a sickly sweet smell they’d procured from a scent shop. Granted, she’d never interacted with men beyond social gatherings where rooms were too small and the crowds too large. Her father’s fragrance never smelled unpleasant. And neither had her brother-in-law, now that she thought of it. Although she couldn’t recall ever wanting to saturate herself with their unique smells.

  Oblivious to her thoughts, Derek said, “We should start here, with a ream of cherry ribbon. I have a feeling whoever goes to the shop will buy them out so others can’t claim a piece.”

  Charlotte frowned. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “But I would.”

  She guffawed. “That has to be cheating.”

  “It’s not. The rules do not forbid clearing them out. This game can get ruthless. The shopkeepers never complain. We try to include several items on our list that can only be found in town. That way our local economy benefits.” He held out his arm for her. “Shall we? I know a shortcut.”

  Charlotte slipped her hand through his arm and relished the zing that shot through her at the pleasure of touching him. It felt right, comfortable. Almost like she’d always held onto him. Or always would.

  “We’ll cut through the woods. There’s a path not far from here. Will that be all right?” He eyed her light pink gown.

  “It’ll be fine. My maid is a genius at working out stains. I’m embarrassed to say she’s had a lot of practice.” She perused his bark-colored jacket in envy. It would hide dirt better than her riding habit on a good day. Men were so lucky.

  “Excellent.”

  They didn’t run exactly, but before she knew it, she was skipping every few steps to keep up with Derek’s long-legged stride. She giggled. “Do you plan on having me run after you in a moment?”

  His steps slowed with a sheepish grin. “Forgive me. I might be a bit more competitive than most.”

  She could see why. He was used to meticulously gathering details before zeroing in on a suspect. He captured those in his sights and brought them to justice. He was used to hunting, whether it was people or hatpins.

  But what else does he have? she wondered as he led her through a smooth path.

  His sister married not that long ago, and both his parents had passed away. There were plenty of people on the estate, but she knew it was hard to form deep connections with staff. For all she could see, he was alone. Truly alone. Maybe he had to be because of what he did, but Charlotte wasn’t so sure. Everyone had someone. But maybe this made it easier for him. He didn’t have someone he worried about. Someone he must protect.

  Someone like her.

  She didn’t want to be a burden on him, though. “Would you teach me how to shoot?” He slowed to a stop, giving her his full attention. “If something happened, and for some reason you weren’t there, I’d like to be able to defend myself.” She reached for a leaf beside her, shredding it as the conversation shredded her nerves.

  “Do you have a weapon?”

  “No. But I could get one. Perhaps there’s a shop that sells small guns?”

  His lips pursed. “There’s no weapon smith in this town, but I have something that could work. It could fit in your reticule.”

  Her eyes flew to his. “Really? You’d consider teaching me?”

  “Of course. I think it’s a brilliant idea. You should be prepared in every way.” He took her hand and threaded it through his arm before continuing down the path.

  Charlotte couldn’t speak. Gratitude filled her as she thought of how much he’d given her, of how much he was still willing to give. Shooting wasn’t a feminine sport, and most men would have laughed at her request. But not Derek. He respected her and seemed to have no problems crossing the lines of propriety to do what needed to be done. What other man could compare?

  He was exciting, thrilling. And unlike any other man of her acquaintance. Married life had seemed so lifeless, so boring before. But a life with Derek would be anything but.

  She choked. Sugar lumps! She needed to get ahold of herself.

  His arm shot out in front of her, stopping her movement. “Wait,” he whispered, scanning the trees.

  His muscles tensed, and it was only then she realized the world had gone silent. No birds called from the sky, no crickets sounded, no mice streaked through shrubs. Her breaths shallow, she strained to hear something. Anything.

  “Stay behind me.”

  He pushed her gently behind him, and her face burrowed in his back as she nodded. He unsheathed a knife in his boot as he led her down the path, one painstaking step at a time.

  Her heart raced, the pounding echoing in her ears. The soft light filtering through the tree branches wasn’t idyllic anymore. It threatened. Someone hid behind those same branches. Someone hunted her in these woods as a gamekeeper would a fox.

  Derek protected her, but who protected him? He only had a knife. What use would it be against an attacker armed with a gun?

  She was a coward, hiding behind Derek’s back like a scared ninny. She hated that about herself, but maybe for once, it was okay to be scared. Perhaps it wasn’t always bad to lean on someone else.

  Derek had kept her safe thus far. She knew he always would if he could.

  Derek stilled his progress, cocking an ear. His muscles relaxed. “They’re gone.”

  She peeked around him. “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know.” He sheathed his knife.

  “Could it have been someone from the group?”

  “Maybe. But if it were, they would have called to us. Whoever was out there watched us, taking great care to remain unseen.”

  Ice raced through her veins.

  His hand raked through his hair. “I was wrong to bring us through here. From now on, we’ll stay with the rest of the group.” He took her hand and pulled her the few feet down the path until they were out of the trees and into a sunlit field.

  The town on the opposite side was picturesque, confounding her after what had just happened in the woods.

  “We’ll finish the hunt, but tomorrow, your training begins.”

  Her eyes widened. “Training?”

  He nodded grimly. “There are a few other things you should know besides how to shoot a pistol.”

  “All right,” she hesitantly agreed. What other things did she need to know?

  Chapter 13

  Most of the guests went to the village that afternoon. But not Charlotte.

  Derek watched, waited until she was completely alone to go to her. He needed others oblivious to where she’d gone. What she’d be doing. Only then would it be safe.

  “Follow me.”

  A shiver skated over her Charlotte’s skin, but her hands steadied on the book s
he held. She hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes. Not that he’d been watching that closely. He’d been trained to pick up on those things.

  She’d been waiting for this, for him, in the library for the last hour.

  He led the way without hesitation, glancing over his shoulder once before opening another secret passageway behind a bookshelf.

  She gasped in wonder, and he wanted to smile. No doubt his estate seemed magical to her. Growing up, it had to him as well. At least the passages had.

  He placed a finger over his lips, urging her to remain quiet. This section of tunnels echoed, and he didn’t want to draw anyone’s notice.

  He maneuvered through the maze, taking his time to teach her the route to a musty room. It never occurred to him to decorate the austere space. He only used it for one purpose and one alone.

  Training.

  Frills would only distract from his work.

  “You may speak freely here. The room is soundproof.” He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a crude wooden chair.

  She wandered the room, eyeing glass bottles in all shapes and colors and an assortment of tools that lay on a scarred worktable.

  “What is this place?” she asked, reaching for a curved knife. “It isn’t…”

  A smile tugged at his cheek. “A torture chamber?” He laughed when she gulped. “No. No torture has occurred within these walls. At least not by my hand.”

  “Oh. Then, what is all this?”

  He grabbed her wrist before she could touch an amber bottle. “Poison.”

  Her hand fell limp. “Poison? All of it?”

  There were at least one hundred jars on the shelf. A fine collection, but what she didn’t realize was that it was only a portion of what he owned. “Most. Yes. And antidotes.”

  She wrung her hands. “Who would need so much?”

  “A spy?” he suggested wryly, delighted when pink tinged her cheeks. She was so fresh in her reactions. So charming. He’d truly thought people like her didn’t exist. In the world he moved within, no one had genuine reactions. No one was innocent. There was death, violence, and greed. No true beauty, modesty, or integrity.

  He brushed a hand over a cool green bottle, checking to make sure the stopper was secure before handing it to her. “In my field, it is sometimes easier to… remove someone… over time than do it quickly. In this room, I craft poisons and distill them into forms I need to accomplish my missions. I brought you here because there might come a time in the near future where you’ll need knowledge of such things. Even if it’s only a basic knowledge, it may save your life. The Black Dahlia has a particular fondness for them.”

  She passed the bottle back to him, her chin lifting a fraction. “What do I need to know?”

  His admiration for her only grew.

  There was something special about her. Something that set her apart from the missish girls whose sole purpose in life was to secure a husband. Charlotte could have any man she wanted. Not only because of her dowry and beauty, but because of who she was beneath that appealing outer shell. And yet, several seasons after her debut, she remained unmarried. What was she looking for?

  She placed the green bottle back on the shelf and studied the others. He stepped forward, handing her an amber bottle. “The first thing you have to know about poison is that each is different. They kill at different rates, cause different symptoms, and have different deliveries. Different antidotes. You could easily kill yourself by ingesting the incorrect cure.”

  She examined the powder inside. “What’s in here?”

  “Mandrake. It’s not the fastest nor the most lethal poison, but it has its uses. The poison is extracted from the root of the plant. Don’t ever touch it with your bare hands.”

  She set the bottle back on the shelf, unconsciously dusting her hands off.

  His lips twitched as he handed her a purple bottle. “Cyanide. Much more lethal. Just a pinch of this mixed in food or drink will terminate a person within a few minutes.”

  “Heavens,” she breathed.

  “More than a pinch, and let’s just say there’s no possibility of taking the antidote in time.” He pointed to a lighter purple vial. “All my poisons and their antidotes are labeled in similarly colored receptacles.”

  “Must come in handy.”

  “More than you know,” he muttered. He couldn’t count the number of times he limped into this room, delirious from one poison or another, only to know the cure by the color of its vial.

  “Belladonna, also known as deadly nightshade.” He pointed to a black bottle. “Hemlock, aconite, digitalis.” He pointed them out. “All fairly common poisons.” He scanned the bottles. “And arsenic, the king of poisons. This has been around for centuries. It’s commonly thought of as a lady’s poison now, and just a few grains, like cyanide, will kill a man.”

  He took a few minutes to list the symptoms of each. Her brows furrowed as she tried to take in the information. “I won’t remember all that.”

  “I’ll write it down for you. It’s important that you remember the symptoms of each and the cure. It might save your life in the future.”

  She shifted uneasily. “You think they’ll poison me? I would hate to die from any of those wretched symptoms.”

  He wanted to protect her from the ugliness of it all, but he couldn’t. She needed to know the truth, to be warned about what could happen. “I think it’s possible they might try. You’re a threat to them. Believe me when I tell you that they will kill you any way they can. Poison is attractive to them as you might die at the table, with them present, and no one would witness their hand.”

  She gulped and nodded. “I’ll be prepared.”

  “Yes, you will.” The need to keep her safe, to destroy anyone who would hurt her, almost suffocated him. He hated that she was so helpless, defenseless. He would change that as much as he could. “Follow me.”

  He led her out of the room and down more darkened hallways. “Here.” He lifted a hatch at the top of a small set of stairs. Dirt mixed with sunlight as it fell in the corridor. “You first.” He took her hand to assist her through the hole.

  “Where are we?”

  He climbed out beside her onto the recently trimmed lawn. Thick bushes shielded them from view. “About a quarter mile from the house.”

  “Interesting.” She eyed the hole again as he concealed it. “Any more exits from the tunnels?”

  “A few.” When her eyes lit up, he chuckled. “If there’s time, I’ll show them to you. You don’t want to wander in the tunnels alone. It’s dangerous, and I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

  “All right,” she agreed reasonably.

  “Excellent. Now, as to your request to learn to shoot a gun. While that would be a worthwhile skill for you to learn, it’s not the most important.” Her lips pursed. “A gunshot can cause significant damage, but you only get one shot, and under pressure, it isn’t always easy to make it count.”

  “If we’re not out here to shoot, then what are we doing?”

  “I’m going to teach you to fight.”

  She eyed him warily. He didn’t blame her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “It is. Although you will most certainly be dealing with someone larger than you, there are techniques I can show you where your size won’t matter. With these skills, it might give you enough time to get away or call for help. They could save your life.”

  He waited patiently while she chewed her lip, but it wasn’t until she nodded that his body relaxed, and he realized how tense he’d been for her answer.

  “Good.” He nodded in praise. “First, if possible, you want to focus on four areas to deliver blows. Nose, stomach, privates, and feet.” He pointed to each area on his body as he said them.

  She flushed furiously. “I couldn’t…”

  He bit back a smile. “You can and you will. That zone is a man’s most vulnerable and, when struck, causes significant pain and could immobilize him. If you have an opportunity
to strike, do it.”

  He performed the proper way to hit each area for maximum impact. “With the palm of your hand, quickly strike the nose,” he said, demonstrating the move and pushing her to practice the skill in the air. “Good. Faster, now. Perfect.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she concentrated on another few jabs. “What next?”

  “For the gut, an elbow will do the trick, just make sure it’s hard and fast, same as the nose. Feet are easy. Lift your foot and smash the heel of your boot down as hard as you can.”

  “And, um…” She blushed. “The other?”

  “Anything you can manage. Foot, elbow, fist. Anything will cause damage, but your best bet is your foot. If you can kick, the assailant’s legs will guide your foot for maximum damage.”

  His hand jerked out, gripping her wrist before he yanked her up back against him. His arms steeled around her waist, pulling her back. “If an attacker has you like this, what will you do?”

  She didn’t warn him before her elbow connected with his stomach. Air whooshed out of his lungs, his hold loosening enough to land her heel onto his boot. She twisted away out of his reach.

  He was bent over, but grinning. “Excellent.”

  She worried her lip again in a way that distracted him from lingering aches. “Are you all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t,” he assured her. “Much.”

  He grabbed her again, this time caging her to his chest, his eyes locking onto hers.

  Her eyes widened at the body contact, and he hissed at the way her body wiggled against his. “And now? If you were held like this?” he asked, but his words trailed off into a caress.

  Her body stilled next to his, the struggle gone, but her breath raced.

  “Charlotte.” His breath caught in his lungs, making speech impossible. Having her in his arms felt right. More right than anything else in his life.

  She was everything he wanted.

  She rose on her toes, capturing his lips with hers.